Potter's Eleven
by Natasha Shaitanova
Summary: Ocean's Eleven HP crossover. The movie was flashy, stylish, actionpacked, and with a sharp sense of wit and humor. Ever wondered what it would look like with Harry Potter characters? I have. You don't need to know Ocean's Eleven to read and get this fic.
1. Chapter 1

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Potter's Eleven

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**Chapter 1**: London to Atlanta

**Disclaimer**: I don't own the Ocean's Eleven script and I don't own _Harry Potter_.

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The room was barren except for a simple, wooden chair placed in the middle, right in front of a small panel of several members of the Wizengamot.

He walked across the hardwood floor in a casual manner, not holding his head too high or too low. Sitting down, he tugged a bit at the sleeve of his grey fatigues as he looked up at the presiding members,

"Please state your name for the record."

He vaguely recognized the woman from his trial a couple of years ago. Who was she? Oh yes, Susan Bones.

"Harry Potter."

"Mr. Potter, you were convicted of attempting to rob Gringotts, as well as implicated, although never charged, in numerous other crimes—"

"As you said, I was never charged…" Harry leaned back in his chair, almost lounging in front of the somber-faced panel.

"What the council is trying to decide, Mr. Potter, is why you chose to commit this crime…or why you simply got caught this time."

Harry seemed to take some time to think over the question, before placing his elbows on his knees and cradling his chin in the palm of his right hand. "My wife left me. I was upset. I fell into a …self-destructive pattern."

"Upon release, is it likely you will fall back into a similar pattern?"

Harry just smirked at the panel. "She already left me once. I doubt she can manage to do it again just for kicks."

"Mr. Potter…what _would_ you do if released?"

Harry leaned forward again and one did not have to look hard to see the gears turning behind his narrowed green eyes. But whatever the former convict was plotting was not meant to be known by the Wizengamot as he simply smiled.

* * *

Harry walked out of the precinct wearing a ragged black suit and looking like he desperately needed a shave. He took a moment to stop and breathe in the air around him, only to end up pulling a rather tragic face. No, exhaust fumes definitely did not constitute as the scent of freedom.

Walking toward the apparition point, Harry rifled through the package he had been given upon release. Formal papers, the gold wedding band, his cellphone, some of his "honest" cash…and no wand.

"Damn." No wandmaker in England was going to sell to him, not even that hag in Knockturn Alley…

"America it is." Harry called up a taxi company and ordered a car for the trip to London's International Airport.

* * *

The music buzzed loudly through the semi-circular rooms, not at all softened by the mirrored walls and raucous conversation. The green felt table looked inviting as it sported little columns of chips and a wad of dollar bills. A hand flicked a couple of the chips over the tanned fingers before tossing them next to the cards.

"Twenty. Dealer has nineteen. Not a bad start."

Harry just nodded with a polite smile and moved the chips back. Atlanta City was certainly welcoming after four wasted years.

"I'm on break now. Ramon will take over for me."

Harry looked up as a black man came up and took the spot on the other side of the Blackjack table.

"Hello, Dean." Less than a day out of the joint and here was a familiar face. Harry couldn't help but grin.

"I'm sorry, sir," Dean shot Harry a meaningful look, while glancing side to side at the adjacent tables, "You must have me confused with someone else. My name is Ramon, as you can see right here." He pointed to the little bronze plague attached to his uniform and dealt the cards.

"My mistake," Harry looked up at 'Ramon' from under his brows and turned the cards over. Twenty-one. "Table's cold anyway."

Dean glanced at Harry's doubled chips but chose not to comment. He waited until his circling boss passed by their table before speaking in a thoroughly professional tone. "You might want to try the lounge at the Caesar's. It gets busy there around one o'clock."

"One o'clock?"

"Yes, sir."

Dean followed Harry's retreating back with a frown. It looked like his career as a professional dealer was coming to a swift close.

* * *

Harry nursed his bourbon and took a sip as he glanced at his watch. 12:58. He turned back to the New York Times.

Surveying the pictures on the front page, Harry did not know whether to laugh at his good fortune or spare a frown for his old friend. The caption declared boldly: _Vegas' Paradiso to be Razed; Former Owner Denounces Claims_.

Only Sirius Black would have carried through with a casino named "Paradiso", Harry thought. His scowling image in the paper, however, left no doubt as to the fate of his pride and joy.

"Catching up on current events?"

Harry looked up as Dean took a seat next to him behind the counter, "You could say that…Ramon?"

"Glad to meet ya," Dean lounged comfortably on his stool and smirked. "Dean Thomas wouldn't get past the gaming board. When'd you get out?"

"Just yesterday. Wasn't planning to stick around in Mother country any more than needed."

The two sat quietly for a moment, allowing the conversation to languish. Harry sipped his bourbon, looking for all the world like a brooding old gambler. After all, that's what bars at casinos tended to constitute of.

He finally spoke after the last drop of alcohol slid from the glass rim and he slammed the tumbler on the counter. "You seen him?"

Dean shrugged, not at all thrown by the question. "Last I heard he was in L.A., teaching movie stars how to play cards."

Harry pulled a face at that piece of information but Dean cut him off before any sardonic comment could arise.

"Why? You have a plan already?"

"Are you kidding? I just became a free man again." Harry looked sideways at his companion, but try as he might have to keep a straight face, the grin slipped through nonetheless.

* * *

Harry and Dean walked out of the Caesar's and proceeded down the sidewalk, away from the milling crowd. The cool night air was a welcome reprieve from the smoky interiors of the lounge.

"It's tough now, our line of work." Dean was talking to his feet, but he knew that every word counted regardless. "Everybody's so bloody serious. Too many guns, too many computers…What're you doin'? Gonna steal from them ordinary people?"

"That would be criminal," Harry talked lightly. No mention of magic was going to be brought up—when the business started, they agreed not to stoop so low as to use that against muggles. If they were to steal from muggles, they would steal _like_ muggles.

"What's left? Banks don't carry real money, it's all electronic…Only place that still takes cash is…"

Harry grinned, "Casinos."

"…You're bloody kidding me."

"Nope," this was the part Harry had been anticipating since his release from the correctional facility.

"When?"

"Soon. Interested?" Harry asked as though 'No' was an option.

Dean just smiled.

* * *

A/N Alright, readers. A few points of clarification: this is going to follow the script pretty closely. I hope that only adds to the appeal since I don't want to risk crippling the plot too much. Also, I realize that there is an infinite number of ways to assign characters to match the actors, so don't complain too much if mine is not ideal to you. It's impossible to please everyone…

Finally, enjoy and **review! Review because we all want to see Daniel Radcliffe grown up and sexy like George Clooney ;)**

NS


	2. Chapter 2

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Potter's Eleven

By Natasha Shaitanova

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Chapter 2: Poker

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Disclaimer: No, no, no….I don't own Brad Pitt and I don't own Daniel Radcliffe and I don't own _Harry Potter_ or any of that good stuff.

Quick A/N: if you know Ocean's Eleven, you know that there is a scene where Rusty is teaching movie stars to place cards. Ok, the thing is, these characters are so trivial that I don't think it is really necessary to give them different names, yes? So, I'm just going to go with the same as in the original movie since this has no inflection on the plot whatsoever.

* * *

Having parted ways with Dean around the corner, Harry walked to the nearest phone booth and took out a business card, quickly dialing a number.

"Hello, Officer Bones?"

He paused as he listened to the voice on the other line.

"Yes, I was told to contact you within twenty four hours."

Pause.

"No, I haven't been drinking," Harry finished off the rest of his bourbon as he spoke.

"No, I haven't been getting into any trouble."

Harry smiled at what must have been the last question. "No, ma'am, I wouldn't even think of fleeing the country."

* * *

Draco Malfoy was decidedly bored. Leaning against his red Ferrari, he stared at the cloudy night sky, as though considering matter removed from his earthly existence when—

"Hey, hey Dray!"

He turned his head with a decidedly annoyed frown marring his pale face. No one dared call him that. Especially not that little punk. "Are you stoned?"

"What…no!"

"Don't call me that, Topher." Draco stood up and away from his car as the two walked toward the nightclub.

"Well, yeah, ok," Topher looked around blearily before turning back to Draco with his rapid-fire speech. "Ok, so, listen, I was talking to my business manager, right? Yeah, the _other_ Bernie, and he said that what we're doing could be considered, like, research, for like, a future gig, so I could like write this off as a business expense or something…So basically the deal is…I have to pay you in check."

Draco stopped as they entered the back corridor and crossed his arms. Mutely, he stared down at the blabbering movie "star" and raised his eyebrows.

"Or…or I could just pay you in cash," Topher stumbled over his words and cringed back from the stare. "Yeah, yeah, let's just keep it cash…"

Draco smirked at his cowering client and proceeded down the hall. In a matter of minutes, they entered a dimly lit room, complete with a large poker table, cage dancers in the background, and of course the other players.

Draco shot a look at each of his clients and sighed. This was going to be a long night.

"Well…let's play some cards."

* * *

One hour later and Draco was looking decidedly worse for wear. Rubbing his cheek and stifling a yawn, he leaned to whisper to Topher. "Why you bet is your business. But you have to make them think you're betting for a reason. Understand?"

"Uh…yeah, yeah, I understand," Topher nodded frantically and looked back at his hand, mumbling, "Hundred to call, hundred to call…Ah, what the hell, pocket change. Call!"

Draco watched blearily as the game went on, searching for a mistake too outlandish to leave ignored (he had left most of the minor blunders unchecked).

"Seth, you know your hand by now. Staring at it isn't gonna change it, so just leave it and place your bet."

The player in question fumbled with his cards a moment before reluctantly throwing the chips forward.

"God dammit, Josh, you're showing," Draco resisted rolling his eyes as he glared at the man across from him, "Yeah, I know she's your girlfriend but…thank you."

"Alright, check out this hand!" Seth lays down his cards and high-fives Topher. Pair of twos and pair of fours.

Sighing, Draco throws down his cards and stands up, "Alright, let's take a break."

Full house.

* * *

Amber swirled around inside his glass and two black-clothed figures writhed in front of him in the red light. He almost wanted to get smashed just to make it through the next round.

"How's the game goin'?" The bartender grinned at him from behind the counter.

"Longest hour of my life."

"Huh?" apparently, yelling over the crowd did not help much.

"I'm running away with your wife," Draco did not even bother smirking as he downed the rest of his drink.

"Great!"

Ignoring the clueless bartender, Draco got up (albeit a touch unsteadily from his chugging attempt) and made his way back to the poker room. As soon as he opened the door, however, he froze.

"Hey, Draco!" Topher greeted him with his usual slurred enthusiasm, "We got a new player, you mind?"

"A bartender told me there was a game in process," Harry leaned his elbows on the table, smiling up at Draco from under his black bangs. "I hope I'm not intruding."

Draco's lips twitched as he pulled a frown, "Which bartender?"

"I don't remember."

Draco threw another glare at Harry as he sat down. "A player with amnesia? This should be a fun game."

"So, uh…" Topher seemed to notice the tension in the room and shot a glance at the other players before turning back to Harry. "What do you do for a living?"

"Two cards please…" it looked like Harry was going to ignore him before he spoke up, "Just got out of prison."

If the tension was present before, the room was now positively abuzz with it. Twitching slightly, Topher asked with some reluctance, "Why were you in prison."

Harry shot a glance at Draco and seemed to speak to him as he replied, "I stole things."

"Stole things, like…"

"Diamonds? Jewels? Cash?" Seth tried to join the conversation.

Meeting Harry's look, Draco replied, "Celtic ceremonial weaponry."

"Ah-uh…" Topher seemed to gape for a bit, "Any money in that, uh, Celtic ceremonial…"

"Weaponry, there's some." Harry leaned back and placed his cards face down on the table.

"Don't let him fool you, there's loads. If you can move it…" Draco finished dealing and drummed his fingers against his tumbler, "But you can't."

"My _assistant_ seemed confident enough."

"If you're dealing with cash, you don't need an _assistant_."

The movie stars watched with wide eyes as the sharp conversation bounced back between Harry and Draco, further electrifying the air in the room with the stinging words.

"Some people just lack vision," Harry looked back to his cards, as though convinced he had gotten the final word, and took out his wallet, "I raise you five hundred bucks."

The players whistled softly as Draco threw down his cards and crossed his arms, "Guys, day one: what was the lesson?"

"Um, uh…never bet on the…"

"Oh, leave emotion at the door!" Topher barely resisted raising his hand as he answered.

"That's right," Draco glared back at Harry. "Now, our friend here just raised me out of pique. So, today's lesson? How to draw out the bluff. I say he's holding nothing more than a pair of face-cards. Seth—raise him!"

The man looked a bit unsure before pushing in his chips, "Seven hundred."

"Topher?"

"Seven. Plus three…what the hell."

"Careful," Draco looked smug, "Don't push him too high too fast. You wanna keep him on a leash…I call."

"Call."

Harry watched as Josh seemed to hesitate, chewing on his lip. He smiled slightly, "What, your girlfriend holding your purse?" That did it.

"Contrary to what _Draco_ here may say, I always check my cards before I bet," Harry again took out his wallet as he stared at Draco across the table. "Five-hundred to call. And two grand more."

The movie stars looked decidedly pale. One grand each on the table—a lot to lose, but sure as hell tempting to back down.

"That's a lot of money, ladies and gentlemen," Draco looked at the other players, as though challenging them to back down. "Feel free to do what you want. But I'm staying in—he's trying to buy his way out of his bluff."

Topher wrung his hands and sneaked a glace at the other players. Finally, the pressure to impress got too much. He paid up and the others followed.

Draco, still smug, spoke up, "We call."

Wordlessly, Harry set down his hand and the others were soon thrown down. Four nines. The other players moaned as Harry drew in his winnings.

Avoiding the glares of his soon to be former customers, Draco shook his head and raked a hand through his hair.

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A/N: ok, ok, I hope you don't find poker too boring to read about…but hey, the drama between the characters! Trust me, all those movie stars are only present in this scene. From now on—_Harry Potter_ characters only. Ya? Ya! Cool.

So, please **REVIEW!! **Reviews feed inspiration and every author needs that. Merci tres bien!

-NS


	3. Chapter 3

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Potter's Eleven

By Natasha Shaitanova

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Chapter 3: "Three"

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Disclaimer: I don't own _Ocean's Eleven _and I don't own _Harry Potter_. Life is sad.

Quick A/N: Je suis désolée une mille fois. Ok, my French sucks—I'm terribly sorry! I should have updated long ago…well…oh well.

* * *

"I'm bored," Draco commented dully, without taking his eyes off the road. His passenger merely raised an eyebrow at the unnoticed stop-sign.

"You look bored."

"I _am_ bored."

Harry took out a wad of bills from his suit pocket—the money he swiped off the poker table. Rifling through the bills, he divided the stack in two.

"Half of it's yours."

Wordlessly, Draco stuffed the cash in his own pocket, before turning to glance at Harry. "Did you get the box of cookies I sent you?"

Harry smirked, "Why do you think I came to see you first?"

A longer pause settled over the occupants of the Ferrari as Draco swerved around another street corner. He turned on the radio to a soft alternative station, before the pointed stares of his companion urged him to speak.

"You barge in there, ruin my professional reputation, basically guarantee my career of robbing movie stars is over. At least tell me you've got something better for me."

"I've got something better for you."

* * *

"Small latte, extra shot please," Harry smiled at the waitress before directing his attention back across the table. Draco was already sipping his drink, pinkie thrust out, as he asked:

"So, how's Ginny?"

Harry glared, "Next subject please."

Draco took a gulp of his espresso to hide the grin: he still had it. "Alright, tell me."

"It's tricky. It's never been done before," Harry paced himself carefully, with artistic pauses highlighting his words. "Needs planning, and a large crew. No magic—if we let on we're anything other than muggles, we're dead. Good as dead."

"Guns?"

Harry shrugged, "Not loaded ones. It has to be very precise. There's a lot of security. But the take…"

"What's the target?"

Harry ignored him, "Eight figures each, at the least."

"What's. The. Target." Draco cut himself off as the waitress appeared, setting down Harry's latte. Seconds later, he was again staring down his old friend.

Harry took a deep breath. "When was the last time you were in Vegas?"

Scoffing, Draco raised an eyebrow and rubbed at the corners of his mouth. "What, you want to knock over a casino?"

Deliberately, Harry set down his coffee and looked up from under his long bangs. Shifting his glance around the café, he raised three fingers just above his cup.

Both of Draco's eyebrows went up this time and the espresso cup banged down on the tabletop. "Three??"

Harry slowly nods.

"H-ooh, damn," shaking his head, Draco downed the rest of his coffee and leaned his chin on his hand. Forget the movie stars.

* * *

The 40th floor of J.A. Kuehn & Associates was bathed in pure kohl as the three a.m. dark seeped in through the windows. The nightlife of downtown Los Angeles was bustling away down the street, but the building, cold for all the world, took no part in the hustle.

A pair of halogen flashlights broke the black air in one of the rooms as Harry and Draco riffled through cabinet after cabinet of blueprints. Or rather, Harry prowled through the drawers as Draco amused himself by switching the papers in the "Out" and "In" boxes. Finally, a set of blueprints was shoved under his nose.

"The vault of the Bellagio."

Draco made little hums and "oohs" as he scanned over the papers, chewing on a nail as he turned to the second page, "Well…if I'm reading this right – and I'd like to think I am – then this is _probably_ the least accessible vault ever designed."

Harry nodded along as he looked over Draco's shoulder, poker mask in place.

"Actually, scratch that, I'm wrong," Draco grimaced, "This is _definitely_ the least accessible vault ever designed."

"Yep."

Draco furrowed his brows, "You said three casinos…"

Flipping to the next page of the stack, Harry pointed at the graphics. "These feed into the cages at the Mirage and the M.G.M. Grand." He turned back to the vault prints, "But every dime ends up here."

"Bellagio, Mirage, and M.G.M…" Draco snapped his head to the side to stare at Harry. "Those are Severus Snape's places."

"Yes, they are," Harry paused a bit before adding nonchalantly, "You think he'll mind?"

"More than a little," Draco cocked his head to the side, considering, "Don't you think he'd have the vault all magicked up though?"

"Decidedly not," here Harry brightened up, "Remember, Voldie managed to break his wand, after which Dumbles and the Minister psychos pretty much drove him out of the country. Not _intentionally_. But regardless, he's magic free now—not that he had much of a choice."

"But?"

"_But_ if he sniffed magic being used in the heist, I wouldn't put it past him to squeal to the Ministry just to blame everything on me." Harry paused, "He'd actually be right this time."

* * *

The doors of the elevator opened at the 40th floor and a hefty man in a security guard uniform stepped out, ducking slightly under the door frame. He leveled his flashlight at the wall before proceeding down the corridor.

OooOo

Harry rolled up the blueprints, shooting a fleeting glance at Draco. The other man seemed to be brooding rather heavily.

"You'd need at least a dozen guys, doing a combination of cons," Draco stated, digesting the plan.

Harry turned around, "Like what, you think?"

"Well," Draco mulled over his words," Off the top of my head, you're looking at a Boesky, a Jim Brown, a Miss Daisy, two Jethros, and a Leon Spinks. Oh, not to mention the biggest Ella Fitzgerald ever."

Draco looked sideways at his new partner, "Where are you planning to get the money to back this?"

Harry simply rolled his eyes, "Not only are we hitting three casinos, but Snape has a _very _long list of enemies. We'll get our bankroll."

Draco was still unconvinced, "But does he have enemies with loose cash and nothing to lose…Ah!"

"Aha," Harry grinned.

"Sirius."

* * *

The security guard walked cautiously along the hallway, speeding up as he heard voices and saw the lights coming from a room down the corridor.

* * *

"So…" Harry waved the blueprints at Draco.

"So, here's what I think," Draco crossed his arms. "You should take this plan, kick it around for a week or two. Sleep on it. Turn it over in your head. And then, never mention it to me again."

Harry scoffed, "Uh-huh…So, what are you saying?"

"I'm _saying_ that this is like trying to play poker on brooms in the middle of a thunderstorm."

"Really?" Harry pretended to be surprised. "I thought it was much harder than that—"

He was cut off as a bright flashlight beam was aimed at his face. Shielding his face with one hand, Harry scowled at the security guard, "Dammit, Oscar, lower that thing a little, would ya?"

"Sorry," the guard lowered the light and gestured vaguely around the room, "You guys done up here? Got what you came for?"

"Yeah, thanks a lot," Harry gathered the blueprints, "We'll just take these drawings home for the night, make a couple of copies. You mind?"

"Whatever you need," the guard replied slowly, his eyes too focused on the wad of bills Draco was taking out of his pocket. The latter peeled off a few and buried them in the guard's hand.

The blond gave a dashing smile, "Appreciate it."

* * *

Harry and Draco walked down the same hall the guard had stalked earlier, stopping at the elevator. The doors opened without sound, but Draco caught Harry's arm, stopping him from boarding.

"Why do this?"

Harry glanced around them, taking interest in the walls, "Why not do it?"

"Stop bullshitting around," Draco growled, "Answer the question."

Harry set his gaze firmly on his friend and took a breath, "Because yesterday I walked out of the joint wearing my entire wardrobe and you are cold-decking TeenBeat coverboys," he paused and leaned forward. "Because the House always wins. You play long enough, never change the stakes, the house takes you. _Unless_, when that perfect hand comes along, you bet big. And then you take the house."

Draco smiled crookedly and led the two into the lift. "You've been practicing."

Harry wrung his hands, almost worriedly. "A little…Did I rush it? I felt like I rushed it."

"No, no it was good."

The pair crossed their arms and legs in sync as the elevator doors closed. Draco chewed on his nail again and exchanged glances with Harry.

"What do you think Sirius would say?"

* * *

A/N: okay, I'm done. I'll make the next chapter sooner and longer—promise! This just seemed like the perfect place to end it.

Anyhow…**please be dears and review! Please, with a sexy, chocolate covered Tom Felton on top! :)**


	4. Chapter 4

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Potter's Eleven

By Natasha Shaitanova

Chapter 4: The List

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Disclaimer: No, I don't own Ocean's Eleven _or_ Harry Potter. Yes, it is a shame.

* * *

_Previously on Potter's Eleven:_

"_A little…Did I rush it? I felt like I rushed it."_

"_No, it was good."_

…

"_I wonder what Sirius will say."_

* * *

"You're out of your goddamn minds!"

Sirius Black, dressed in a golden silk bathrobe and bejeweled with a conglomeration of various rings and amulets, sprawled comfortably in one of the deck chairs at the poolside. He scowled at his guests across the chic lunch. Harry and Draco just smiled back.

"Are you listening to me?" Sirius was working himself up into a long rant, "You are, both of you, nuts. I know more about casino security than any man alive. I invented it, and it cannot be beaten! They've got cameras, they've got watchers, they've got locks, they got timers, they got vaults. They've got enough armed personnel to occupy Hogwarts! …Okay, bad example."

"It's never been tried," Harry protested and kicked Draco under the table to stop him from nodding in agreement.

"Oh! Psht," Sirius scoffed pointedly, shaking his head, "It's been tried. A few guys even came close! You know the three most successful robberies in Vegas history?"

Draco vaguely waved his hand in a nugatory motion, "Since when do you care for history, Sirius?"

"Since I married this city, if you must know," undeterred, Sirius brushed aside the question, "It's bad luck not to know your bride's history—you never know what might creep up. Anyhow…"

Sirius glanced around furtively, before taking out his wands and conjuring a floating screen of sorts in the air.

"Observe."

The screen shimmered before displaying an Adlai Stevenson-lookalike creeping up on a security guard carrying a lockbox. He grabs the lockbox and springs forward…only to be pounced upon by no less than five other guards. Sirius flicked his wand and the image paused, freezing on the would-be thief's expression of pure horror.

"Number Three. The bronze medal," Sirius relayed in a rather didactic manner, "Pencilneck grabs a lockbox at the Sands. He got two steps closer to the door than any living soul before him."

Harry and Draco nodded along politely as the screen switched to another sequence.

A man with scraggly long hair and purple pants (i.e. flaming hippie) races towards the automatic doors, carrying a tray-full of poker chips. As the doors begin to part in front of him, a billy club shoots into the frame.

"Second most successful robbery," Sirius recited as he again paused the film, "The Flamingo '71. This guy actually smelled fresh oxygen before they got him."

The motion resumed, causing Harry and Draco to wince as the club smashed down hard across the hippie's skull.

Sirius cocked his head to the side, "Of course, he was breathing out of a hose for the next three weeks. Goddamn hippie."

"Ok, Sirius, really, I think we get—" Harry did not get to finish his protest as Sirius started up the next sequence.

In the frame, bystanders scatter as a suited man bursts from the doors of the Caesar's, an arm-load of cash clutched tight to his chest. He races down the steps of the casino, only to arch his back in apparent agony as no less than three glass doors burst into shards behind him.

"Outside the Caesar's in '87. He came, he grabbed…he got conquered."

Sirius pointed his wand at the screen, showing the frames of bullets ripping through the robber, before dissolving the makeshift TV in midair.

"But what am I saying," Sirius put on a fake grin, "You guys are pros, the best. I'm _sure_ you can make it out of the casino. Of course, lest we forget, once you're out of the front door, you're still in the _middle of the fucking desert!!_"

Harry pretended to fiddle with his napkin as Draco spoke.

"You're right," the blond turned to his companion, "He's right."

"Sirius, you're right," Harry issued a long-suffering sigh, "Our eyes are bigger than our stomachs."

Draco nodded enthusiastically, "That's all it is. Pure ego."

Sirius just rolled his eyes at his guests, "Yeah yeah, blah blah."

Harry rose to go, nudging Draco as he got out of his chair, "Thanks for setting us straight. Sorry we bothered you."

"Look, we all go way back," Sirius gestured vaguely as he downed his orange juice, "I owe you from that thing with that guy in that place, and I'll never forget it."

"Sirius…" Harry paused in his retreat and stared at his godfather, "Don't you mean for saving your life over ten years ago from Bitchatrix in the Department of Mysteries? I didn't think you'd forget so soon."

"That's the one!" Sirius slurred as he pulled a bottle up from under the table, "Now excuse me as I drown this conversation out of my memory."

"It's been our pleasure," Draco intoned as he and Harry headed for the gate.

Sirius yelled after them, "Give Dominic your addresses, I have some remaindered furniture I wanna send you."

Harry raised a hand in acknowledgement and walked around the pool at a leisurely pace. Three, two, one…

"Look," Sirius yelled, "Just out of curiosity, which casinos did you geniuses pick to rob?"

Draco stopped with a slight smirk on his face, "Oh, uh, the Bellagio, the Mirage and the…"

"M.G.M. Grand," Harry finished.

Sirius's bottle slammed back onto the table, "Those are Severus Snape's casinos."

Draco put on a surprised look, "Is that right?"

"That's right," was Harry's cheerful reply.

Sirius took a sip and waved the two younger men back, "You guys...what do you got against Severus Snape?"

Harry looked bemused, "What do you have against him, that's the question. And judging from your distant history…"

"He torpedoed my casino!" Sirius exploded, throwing his chair back as he stood up, "Muscled me out. Now he's gonna blow it up next month to make room for another fuckin' eyesore! Don't think I don't see what you're doing."

Draco raised a carefully-plucked eyebrow, "What _are_ we doing, Sirius?"

"You gonna steal from _Snivellus_, you better goddamn know. This sorta thing used to be civilized. You'd hit a guy, he'd whack you. Done. That's how muggles deal and that's how it should be in their business. But Snape..." Sirius bristled, "At the end of this, the s.o.b. better not know you guys are involved, cuz he'll kill ya! And then he'll get our good ol' minister to go to work on ya."

"That's why we have to be careful," Harry fought hard to keep the smug grin off his face, "We have to be precise. Well-funded."

"You gotta be nuts too, and you're gonna need a crew as nuts as you" Sirius tried to keep a straight face, but a bit of excitement slipped through, "It'll be just like school days again…Who'd you have in mind?"

* * *

Harry and Draco sat in the outside patio of a fancy café, sipping away at fruity drinks. Sun reflected merrily off their shining khaki suits. Draco straightened his collar.

"Alright, who's in?"

"Dean Thomas is in," Harry looked down at what appeared to be a list and checked off one of the items, "He's recently developed a severe case of bronchitis and is putting in for transfer to warmer climates."

Draco nodded at the paper, "What does he do nowadays?"

"Black jack dealer. Transferring from Atlanta City to Vegas."

* * *

Dean Thomas coughed forcefully into a lacy handkerchief, hiding a smile as he looked across the bureau table at his boss, signing the papers.

In less than twenty four hours, he was lighting up a thick, aromatic cigar as he exited the taxi, ignoring the driver. Inhaling the thick smoke and desert air, he grinned toothily at the proud red and yellow sign across the road.

"Welcome to Las Vegas!"

* * *

"Good…" Draco sipped his cocktail, "What about drivers?"

"I talked to Fred and George yesterday."

"The Weasley twins?" Draco frowned.

"Yeah, they're six months off the job back in London," Harry scribbled on his sheet, "And I got the sense they're having trouble filling the hours."

"You better be sure about this one. Remember Los Angeles?"

"Which one?"

"The one where they dragged their brooms to the bank heist," Draco glared across the table, "Or maybe the one where they obliviated all of the sales clerks. Or maybe that time that they entered the Monster Truck contest with a _flying_ Hummer!"

"Your point?" Harry looked up, "They're efficient."

"They're crazy. How do you explain to them the no-magic policy on this job?"

"You take away their wands, their toffees, and their brooms and then tell them that they are chucked if they don't stick to the deal," Harry seemed perfected unworried as he replied, already moving on to the next entry on his list.

* * *

A thick cable stretched between the two skyscrapers of downtown London, attached to the roofs at each end. A length of rope, tied to the cable and dangling toward the bustling traffic below, bounced up and down as the weight on its end fell face first off the shaking parapet.

Hoots and cheers could be heard from one of the skyscrapers' roofs as a garden gnome scowled and growled mournfully, swinging back and forth on the end of the rope.

The rope suddenly sagged, causing a yelp out of the gnome, as a tall, redheaded, young man walked foot over foot across the cable, hands outstretched at his sides. Or at least…he made it in ten feet at most before slipping sideways and dangling down next to the gnome on another stretch of rubber cord.

"New record! That's three feet more than last time!"

The shout was accompanied by aggravated yelps as the redhead strove to fend off a furious, swinging and kicking gnome.

* * *

"Fine, but I'll blame you when Snape owls the Ministry," Draco scowled momentarily, "Anyhow…electronics?"

"Neville Longbottom."

"Ok, Potter, are you on medication that you forgot to tell me about and forgot to take it?"

"Stop being cliché, Draco," Harry answered blithely as he drank his pina colada.

"Look, the kid's a klutz and his nerves are wired! How the hell is he going to work?"

"He'll be fine, just give him a chance," Harry slid the list across the table, "He's doing freelance surveillance work for the FBI mob-squad."

* * *

An unmarked white van sat discreetly on the side of a park, revealing nothing of its contents to the cheery pedestrians.

Inside, Neville Longbottom sat hunched over a TV screen, a set of headphones clamped tightly over his ears. On the screen, two black-suited looked around furtively as they exchanged briefcases.

"Hey, hey! Don't t-t-touch that!"

Neville seemed to come alive as he gestured at the two FBI agents occupying the other half of the mobile surveillance facility. One of the fibs had began twisting dials on a switchboard, causing an electric squeal to emit from the headphones.

"Why?"

Neville bristled, "Do you see me grabbing the gun out of your holster and w-waving it around?"

The fib pulled a face, "Hey, RadioShack: relax!"

* * *

Draco pushed back the list, "Munitions?"

"Seamus Finnigan."

"Dead."

Harry looked up, surprised, "No shit! On the job?"

"Nope, skin cancer."

"Bullshit," Harry frowned.

"Alright, that's what his wife was told."

"You send flowers?"

"Dated the wife for a while."

Harry mulled over the list, "Well, then that leaves…"

Draco grinned. "Yup."

* * *

A/N: woohoo! Quick update! You'll find out who'll be the explosives guy next time ;) For now, **REVIEW! **See, I got plenty of reviews for the last chapter so this one came out fast. What does that tell you? Ahah, I knew you guys were smart. 


	5. Chapter 5

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* * *

**

**By Natasha Shaitanova**

**Chapter 5**: The Art of Persuasion

* * *

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Ocean's Eleven or Harry Potter. Well dammit.

**Quick A/N: **Long time, no update. Sorry peeps, I've partying nonstop. I think I forget when is night and when is day...Anyhow. I think it's obvious how I'm picking out characters here—they must _look_ and _act_ the same as in the original movie—I want the crossover to have the same look and feel as the film. For those who wanted Hermione as Tess—well, so did I, since I like her better than Ginny, but the latter just fits better. Both redheads and all that…

**Last Time:**

_Draco and Harry are picking out crew candidates. They are now on the explosives expert._

_Harry mulled over the list, "Well, then that leaves…"_

_Draco grinned. "Yup."_

* * *

"Blaise Zabini."

Draco grinned across the table, "Damn straight."

"You sure?" Harry frowned.

"Well, there may be an issue with availability…"

* * *

Black, shining goggles loomed over a spluttering match, reflecting the miniature orange flame as it was lowered to the end of a fuse. A quick puff from dark lips killed the flame on the tip of the wood and the man stepped back around the corridor corner, crouching down on the floor.

Carefully, he held up his wrist to the goggles and seemed to count down the seconds before biting the nails on his free hand and pushing down the trigger button on a wireless control.

Shards of glass and wooden splinters flew with a great woosh around the corner, accompanied by a deafening rumbling from the vault door.

Three masked man rushed to the scene of carnage, following their leader. Their parade was rather rained on, however, as shrill alarms stopped their pursuit in the middle of the vault.

Blaise threw up his hands, "You tossers! You had one job to do…"

SWAT members led the would-be burglars out of the building, hands tied behind their heads. One of the cops pulled Blaise aside and pushed him against a police car, about to commence with an on-site interrogation.

"Name?"

Blaise glared at the pudgy man, scornful.

"What's your name, you little fuck?"

The cop narrowed his eyes in a glare imitation (although he merely managed to look fatter, with his full cheeks seemingly squeezing his watery eyes shut).

"Fine. Is the stuff we found all you used in the "event"?"

Blaise scoffed, "Are you accusing me of booby-trappin'?"

The cop glared some more, "Well how 'bout it?"

"Booby traps aren't Mr. Zabini's style."

The cop swiveled around at the voice. A dark-suited, somber Draco whipped off his very-James-Bond sunglasses and quickly flashed a badge with nimble, leather-clad fingers.

"Isn't that right, Blaise?"

Blaise barely concealed a grin, "That's right."

"Beck, A.T.F.," Draco nodded to the cop, "Let me venture a guess. A simple G4 mainliner, double-coil, backwound, quick fuse with a drag under 20 feet."

Draco paused to check the cop's reaction. Satisfied at the man's avid nodding, he continued, "That's our man. Let me ask you something else. Did you check him for booby traps on his person? And I mean _really_ checked, not just for weapons…"

The cop slowly shook his head, jumping back at a sharp "Stand back."

Draco grabbed Blaise by the arm and spun him around to face the car, slamming him bodily against it. Patting down Blaise's legs, arms, and waist, Draco kept him pressed against the vehicle as he turned back to the bewildered cop, "Will you go find Griggs and tell him I need to see him?"

"Who?"

Draco glared and snapped at the pudgy officer, "Just find him, will ya?"

As the cop walked away, Draco muttered under his breath, "How fast can you put something together from what I passed you?"

Blaise seemed to struggle under Draco's grip as he replied, "It's done. Thirty seconds alright?"

"From when," Draco pulled back, ready to bolt.

"Now."

The two walked swiftly away from the police car, Draco keeping a hold on Blaise's tied hands and pushing his back for the benefit of the SWAT team.

"Ten seconds?"

"Almost…now!"

The two broke into a run around the corner of the bank as shouts of "bomb" broke out at the arrest scene. Draco looked back to see the police car lift off the ground with the force of the explosion.

Blaise laughed, "It'll be good working with proper villains again."

* * *

A giant, multi-colored tent rose like a toyland beacon in the middle of the desert, alerting all of the inhabitants of Western USA that the Chinese National Circus had arrived. Giggling preschoolers swarmed over the parking lot and the inside bleachers, just out of reach of their parents.

Harry and Draco sat in the front row around the inside arena, suit jackets abandoned in the sweltering heat. Draco munched leisurely on a roll of cotton candy as Harry glared at the general populace.

"So, which one is our grease man?"

"The little Chinese girl," Draco responded, unconcerned.

Harry sighed, staring at the stage overrun with Asian acrobats, "Who else is on the list?"

"She _is_ the list."

The announcer's voice roared through the speakers, "Ladies and Gentlemen, please welcome the Amazing Chang!"

A short, extremely thin Chinese woman hopped onto the stage as the other acrobats ran off and began climbing one of the two poles in the center.

"That doesn't look so hard—" Harry's unimpressed muttering was cut off as Chang backflipped off one pole and caught herself upside down on the other, before somersaulting to the ground. She landed in a split, to the cheering of a full-house audience.

"We got our grease man…er, woman," Harry grumbled as he clapped.

* * *

Draco and Harry navigated through the packed parking lot, away from the giant circus tent, as the latter spoke.

"We need Remus."

Draco hopped into the driver's seat of a convertible, "He won't come. Swore off the game a year ago."

Harry raised an eyebrow, "He get religion?"

"Nah, not that bad. Ulcers."

"Your point?"

Draco stared sideways, "He's going to muggle way about fixing them."

The pair drove in silence past the exit booths before Harry spoke up again, "You could ask him…"

Draco, miming a flashbulb idea with the raise of his eyebrows and finger, exclaimed, "Hey, I could ask him!"

* * *

An aging man, around in his fifties, stood with a slouched back and drooping eyes at the ticket booth, passing a wad of cash to the operator before stuffing his tickets in his pocket. He looked around befuddled for a moment before moving off.

Taking a moment to raise his wrinkled face to the streaming sunlight outside, Remus proceeded to one of the benches near the racing stadium and took a seat. He sat casually, legs crossed at the ankles, and took out an orange. As he started to peel it, he spoke, apparently to thin air.

"I saw you at the paddock before the second race, near the men's room, when I was placing my bet," Remus tore off a chunk of orange peel and placed it next to him on the bench, "I saw you before you even got up this morning."

Draco walked out of the shadows of a nearby pillar and leaned against he back of the bench.

"How've you been, Remus," he spoke, ignoring the older man's cryptic statement.

"Never better."

"What's with the orange?"

Remus continued peeling, "My doctor says I need vitamins."

Draco persisted, "So why don't you take vitamins? Or a little charm here and there…"

Remus craned his neck to shoot a wry frown at the blond, "You come here to give me a physical?"

Draco just grinned and lightly hit Remus on the shoulder with his fist, "I got box seats. Come on."

* * *

Remus and Draco relaxed in their seats as a waiter served them coffee and jello (the latter being ordered by the younger of the pair).

"I thought you only drank Bloody Mary's on the track, Remus?"

The man in question just scoffed, "One should never drink on the job."

Draco shrugged, "So which mutt are we rooting for then?"

"Number four. And I will have you know that these are no mutts, but magnificent purebreds."

"What, so now _you_ are on the 'pure' mania?" Draco mock-glared, "I got over mine years ago. Shame on thou, hypocrite."

Remus just rolled his eyes, "Quit it. Are you going to tell me or should I just say no and get it over with?"

"Remus, you're the best there is. You're in Cooperstown. What do you want?"

The man responded without taking his eyes off the race, "Nothing. I've got a duplex. I've got wall-to-wall and a goldfish. I'm seeing a nice lady who works the unmentionables counter at Macy's. I'm a new man, Draco. I've changed."

"Guys like us don't change, Remus," Draco spoke in a mild tone, but his words resonated in their box, "We've lived through the War. We've lived through the Ministry's Reconstruction. This is what we came out as. We stay sharp or we get sloppy. But we don't change."

Remus responded in a terse tone, conviction not quite reaching his words, "Quit conning me."

Draco let silence ring for a few moments, before speaking lightly, "Is that your hound in the back there?"

"He breaks late, everyone knows this."

Draco raised his eyebrows—the dogs were coming around the back stretch, crowd cheering.

"Will you treat me like an adult at least," Remus finally took his eyes off the race, giving up, "Tell me what the scam is?"

The crowd erupted in yells and whistles as the finish line was crossed. Amid the cacophony, Draco leaned in and whispered quickly into Remus' ear. The older man's eyes widened and he placed his coffee cup back on the table.

Clapping Remus on the shoulder, Draco slid him an envelope under the table and left the box. Slightly pale, Remus wiped his forehead and placed a heavy hand on his stomach, breathing deeply. He turned over the new tickets under the table.

Number four crossed the finish line…last.

* * *

A/N: Yup. Just number eleven to go…Hm, wonder who's gonna be Linus…Guesses?

**Please REVIEW! **You guys have been great about reviewing, don't slack off now :)

-NS


	6. Chapter 6

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* * *

**

By Natasha Shaitanova

**Chapter 6:** The Eleventh

* * *

**Disclaimer**: I don't own _Ocean's Eleven _and I don't own _Harry Potter_.

**Quick A/N**: People, I am suddenly motivated to update again (okay, I should have updated forever ago). Watching Ocean's Thirteen really made me want to start writing again—that movie was so much fun. Loved it, absolutely. Okay, here you go. Sorry for that bit of free association…

* * *

The television hanging above the bar blasted advertisement after advertisement, settling finally on promoting an upcoming wrestling match.

Harry swirled his whiskey in the tumbler, staring blankly at the wooden counter. Draco leaned his chin on top of his crossed arms next to him, lazily watching the TV.

"Ten should do it, don't you think?" Harry asked, glancing sideways at his companion.

Draco seemingly ignored the question, eyes not leaving the television.

Harry took a sip of his whiskey, "You think we need one more?"

Draco raised one shoulder slightly in a shrug, lolling his head into the crook of his right arm as he did so.

"You think we need one more," Harry stated in an almost accusatory tone, glancing again at the blond head turned away from him.

Knocking back the rest of his drink, Harry nodded with a sense of finality, "Okay. We'll get one more."

Draco blinked at the TV.

* * *

The crowded subway car raced recklessly through the streets of Chicago, tossing about its less adept occupants against the walls and each other.

One young man in particular seemed particular limber on his feet, standing solidly next to a pair of stockbrokers. He seemed to stare at his feet as his head was bent down, but it was impossible to tell the object of his gaze behind the pulled-down hat and the black sunglasses.

His shabby coat and shedding scarf seemed to envelope his entirely, so that only the slightest hint of bright orange hair was visible from under the hat. His hands were likewise obscured from view, one hanging somewhere by his side and the other apparently holding closer his scarf.

A sudden twist of the subway car sent passengers tumbling every which way. The young man stumbled forward against one of the stockbrokers, catching himself by placing a hand on the man's shoulder.

"Sorry 'bout that," he mumbled and pulled away quickly. He stuffed the other hand in his pocket.

"No problem, guy," the stockbroker waved dismissively and turned back to his Wall Street companion.

Across the car, Harry lowered the newspaper obscuring his face and smirked at the scene.

* * *

Commuters rushed out of the subway car the moment before it came to a stop and swarmed through the platform, dodging around booths and incoming human traffic.

The red-headed man weaved his way through the man with practiced ease. He successfully maneuvered out of the platform with only a minor brush with some nicely dressed gentleman. Ignoring the small impact he continued on to the street outside.

At the intersection, the redhead paused and stuffed a hand into his pocket. His brows furrowed as he groped around for the apparently missing object. Instead, he pulled out a small white contact card.

"Harry Potter" was engraved on the top side. The redhead frowned; he had heard the name all too often.

Turning the card over, he stilled.

"Nice pull," it read "Murphy's bar, rush & division."

* * *

Harry threw the Gucci wallet down on the table top, right next to his half-finished Guinness.

"Hey, Ron. Have a seat."

Ron Weasley glowered at the smug-looking man, before taking off his gloves and collapsing into the seat across from him.

"It's been a while, mate. How'd you find me?"

"A friend of a friend of a friend heard of a skillful pair of hands working the subways."

"Right…" Ron flicked the white business card onto the table, "So why now? I thought we agreed to go our separate ways after the Gringotts job went to pieces."

"You were never on the Gringotts job," Harry glared.

"I wasn't suicidal," Ron shrugged and took a gulp of the Guinness, "I decided to scram before they drew the connection and pinched me along with you."

"And, what? You ran from the business to feel up stockbrokers?"

Ron did not bother with a verbal reply, choosing instead his middle finger.

Harry snorted and drew out an envelope from his breast pocket. He kept his hand over it as he placed it on the table.

"You're either in or out, right now."

"What is it?"

"This is not a Gringotts, Ron. No backing out when things get tough," Harry kept his gaze and voice level, "If you have any doubts, don't take it."

"What if I don't?"

"Then Malfoy will take his own pick to replace you," Harry raised an eyebrow at Ron's fallen expression, "You knew he would be in on this. This is no small job."

"How big is it?"

"Big."

"Gringotts big?"

"Bigger."

Ron scratched his chin, "So what is it?" He nodded at the envelope.

"A plane ticket to the debriefing. You know the rules, Ron," Harry pushed the envelope forward, "The new team won't take well to you breaking them."

A waitress passed the pair and Harry motioned for the bill. In the split second, the envelope was gone.

"Las Vegas, huh?"

* * *

Dean Thomas moved happily to the bar in Sirius' reception room, mixing himself a drink from the wide array of liquor spread out on the marble counter.

Sirius shuffled toward the door in his gilded pajama bottoms and an embroidered black bathrobe, hearing the doorbell chime. He opened the door as he stuck a cigar in his mouth. An eyebrow went up.

Neville Longbottom, Blaise Zabini, Cho Chang, The Weasley twins, Remus Lupin and Ron Weasley crowded on his doormat as a taxi van pulled away from the curb behind them.

Neville grinned gingerly, "Trick or treat?"

Sirius huffed, "What, did you guys get a group rate or something?"

* * *

The assembly moved outside to Sirius' poolside, enjoying the stylish ambience of the warm glint of lanterns, the chirruping of the cicadas, and naturally the abundance tables of expensive appetizers.

Remus was immediately accosted by Sirius, who grabbed the man by the elbow and pulled him aside before he could take his first gulp of wine.

"I thought you were out of the business, man? The boys managed to bring you back, eh?"

Remus shook his head at the delighted gleam in his old friend's eyes, "Don't get your hopes up, Sirius. It's this job and I'm back to retirement…If we come out alive that is."

"Have my experiences taught you nothing?" Sirius puffed on his cigar, "Just look at my success with casinos!"

"Only if by success you mean your casino getting pulverized to the ground by Snape," Remus hid his smile in the rim of his glass.

"Low blow, Moony."

* * *

Fred and George Weasley wasted no time in piling their plates high with jumbo shrimp and slathering it in various sauces before scouring the assembly of crooks for a preferred target.

"Aha!"

The duo moved quickly, attaching themselves to Draco on either side and steering him aside from the group.

"Draco!"

"We've missed…"

"…your pale visage…"

"…in London…"

"…when was your…"

"…last visit anyway?"

"Not long enough ago," Draco stated firmly and withdrew his elbows from the twins' grip, "I'm not insane enough to return to that city after the Parkinson job."

Fred and George nodded gravely, before the latter exclaimed.

"Here, try the shrimp! It's fantastic…"

Draco laughed, "Yeah right, what did you spike it with?"

Fred grinned, "Nothing! At least, not this batch…"

At the blonde's raised eyebrow, George elaborated, "We replaced the sauce on the table with our own homemade salsa…"

* * *

Ron slouched on a sofa in a corner, watching the festivities gloomily. His eyes flicked over Zabini and Longbottom, twitching slightly as Blaise poured a drink for Neville. The latter downed it in one gulp and promptly doubled over in a coughing fit, although he surfaced laughing.

On the pool's diving board, Cho likewise forewent company in favor of stacking shot glasses in the shape of a skyscraper as Dean watched bewildered.

The recluses looked up as a lull in conversation drew their attention.

"Good evening and welcome to Las Vegas, lady and gentlemen," Harry walked down the stairs leading from the mansion doors, flanked by Sirius and Draco, "Everyone's eaten? Good. Everybody sober?...Close enough."

Harry looked over the quiet group, nodding, "Most of you know each other from school days. For those who've forgotten, that's Remus Lupin, over at the pool is Cho Chang, a newer addition to the team."

Harry paused a bit before his next point, but continued as Draco nudged him from behind, "Alright, no one is on the line yet. What I am about to propose to you is highly lucrative and highly dangerous. If that does not seem like your particular brand of FireWhiskey, help yourself to the food and have a safe journey. Otherwise, come with me."

Turning on his heel, Harry walked swiftly back inside the house, ignoring the ringing silence left in his wake.

Sirius and Draco remained, glancing over the group, sizing them up. Finally, Dean spoke.

"What the hell," and he walked inside.

The others followed in a line, Remus nodding to Sirius as he passed, until only Ron was left sitting behind. Draco laid a hand on Sirius' shoulder and shot a look at Ron before following the line inside.

"It's been a while Ron. Heard you were in Chicago?" Sirius walked over to stand next to the redhead.

"Yeah…tried to put some distance between the London jobs and myself."

"Right, right," Sirius nodded vaguely, "Nice city, plenty of opportunity.

"Mhm," Ron nodded along.

"Great…Get in the goddamned house."

* * *

A/N: Alright, the formal debriefing comes in the next chapter! But finally the boys are all together, yes? Well, them and Chang. Rowling didn't write about any little Chinese _guys_. Anyhow, someone asked a question of how Snape is not going to recognize them…Well, think disguises people. That and think of the nature of Ocean's Eleven – not very probably, but _very _stylish and fun. I'll do my best to keep it realistic though.

**Please REVIEW chaps! Gold-chain-wearing-beringed-flashy-bathrobe-loving-Sirius's to all!**

-NS


	7. Chapter 7

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Potter's Eleven

By Natasha Shaitanova

Chapter 7: Recon

* * *

Disclaimer: I don't own _Harry Potter_ and I don't own _Ocean's Eleven. _I do own the compilation of the two in this story.

Quick A/N: okay everybody, it's pretty glaringly obvious that Hermione is not getting a major role in this crossover. However, I believe she _deserves_ a major role as one of _Harry Potter's_ main characters. As such, I am going to save her for the next installment: Potter's Twelve. You can probably guess who she'll play….

* * *

Once the group had assembled in the living room, Sirius shut the doors and blinds before turning on an enlarged version of the screen he used to show the olden casino days to Harry and Draco. The screen shimmered as it expanded, before focusing in on three elaborate buildings.

"Lady and gentlemen, the 14000 block of Las Vegas Boulevard," Harry waved a hand toward the floating images, "Otherwise known as the Bellagio, the Mirage, and the M.G.M. Grand. Together, you well know that they are the three most profitable casinos in Las Vegas…"

Harry paused and raised an inquiring eyebrow as Draco fiddled with some sort of purple crystal, jabbing it in the direction of the screen.

"Dammit, Sirius, how do you work this thing?" Draco banged the crystal-remote against a nearby pool table, scowling.

"Hey stop that! You have to love it…" Sirius grabbed away the 'remote' and stroked it carefully before pointing it back at the screen. Immediately, the images blurred into the next picture.

"Okay, moving on," Harry again grasped the group's attention, "_This_ is the Bellagio vault. As you see, three tunnels, one from each casino, lead into freight elevator that descends a full 200 feet through solid earth to the vault itself. It safeguards every dime that comes into any one of the three casinos."

Harry paused a beat for dramatic effect, "And we are going to rob it."

The assembled crooks sat awed, exchanging cautious glances. Only Ron snorted, "Smash and grab job, huh?"

Harry fought not to roll his eyes while Draco simply looked disdainful, "A bit more complicated than that."

Eager to prevent any premature rifts, Harry jumped in, "Alright, bad news first. This place houses a security system which makes nuclear missile sites look outdated. First we need to get inside the casino cages—"

"Here, here, and here," Draco interrupted, gesturing a the corresponding images on the floating screen.

"—which anyone knows takes more than a pretty smile, "Harry went on, unperturbed, "Next, through these doors, each of which requires a different six-digit code changed every twelve hours. Past those lies the elevator, and this is where it gets tricky: the elevator won't move without authorized personnel fingerprints—"

"—which we can't fake—"

"—and vocal confirmation from both the Bellagio security center and the vault below—"

"—which we won't get," Draco concluded.

As the group watched the verbal tennis game between the pair, Harry continued, "Furthermore, the elevator shaft is rigged with motion detectors—"

"—meaning that is we manually override the elevator, the shaft exit will lock down, leaving us trapped inside."

"Once we're past that, it's a walk in the park. Just two guards with Uzis and predilections toward not being robbed…and the most elaborate vault door conceived by man," Harry finished cheerfully, "Any questions?"

Mute silence met the end of the speech, as each group member stared incredulously (with no small amount of apprehension) at the hosts. Finally, Cho spoke, reverting to her native language due to the excitement.

Draco seemed to be the only one to understand her, "Nah, tunneling is out. There are Richter scales monitoring the ground for one hundred yards in every direction. If a gnome decided to nest there, they'd know about it. Anyone else?"

Ron frowned, "Why don't we just use magic? A few confounding charms, hexed, basic spellwork, and it's in the bag…"

"Oh right, we forgot to mention this," Draco spoke with faked sincerity, "The three casinos are owned by none other than Severus Snape. Without a doubt, he would be monitoring magical activity levels in his casinos at all times."

Another silence descended over the living room, interrupted eventually by Fred, "So, ah, you mentioned good news?"

Harry smiled, pleased that the question was asked, "The Nevada Gaming Commission stipulates: a casino must hold in reserve enough cash to cover every chip in play on its floor. As I already said, this vault services each of the three casinos above. This means that, by law, during the week it must hold anywhere from sixty to seventy million dollars in cash and coin. On a weekend, between eighty and ninety million. On a fight night, like the one two weeks from tonight, the night we are going to rob it…"

"At least a hundred and fifty million, without breaking a sweat," Draco crossed his arms, secretly delighted at the bulging eyes of their audience, "There are eleven of us. Each gets an equal share. You do the math…"

George, seemingly counting on his fingers, whistles.

"That's what I said," Draco smirked.

As the others are muttering in low voices, suitably impressed with their share, Lupin raises his hand, "I have a question."

As Harry nodded for him to go on, Remus spoke quietly, "Say we get into the cage, and through the security doors there, and down the elevator we can't move, and past the guards with the guns, and into the vault we can't open…"

"Without being seen by the cameras," Draco pitched in, "Sorry, forgot to mention that."

"Well ok, say we do all that…We are just supposed to walk out of there with a hundred plus million in cash on us without being stopped?"

Harry threw on his most charming grin, one even Draco could not refuse, "Yeah."

Remus leaned back and pressed a hand to his stomach, before popping a Rolaid.

"Alright, here's how we start. First task: reconnaissance. I want to know everything that is going on in the casinos, from the rotation of the dealers to the path of every cash cart..."

* * *

A pair of security guards pushed a cash cart past the tourists and players, navigating their way through the casino floor. As they passed a blackjack table, neither noticed a gamer turn slightly and follow them to the cages entrance with his eyes.

Ron turned back as the guards disappeared behind the security doors, reeling in his winnings.

* * *

"…I want to know everything about every guard, every watcher, anyone with a security pass. I wanna know where they are from, what their nicknames are, how they take their coffee…"

Draco snorted casually at the latter.

* * *

Dean joined two technicians in one of the back rooms for a smoke break, casually doing a crossword on the other side of the table. The pair grumbled about their sex lives in front of an apparently uninterested coworker.

"You know, I've only seen her once but I think Charmaine really likes me…"

Dean tried not to chuckle at the unlikely affair with an exotic dancer as she scribbled a transcript of the conversation into the crossword puzzle. His gaze lingered on the technician's electronic key-card, clipped to his belt.

* * *

An identical electronic card, with only minute differences of a picture and a name for the various employees, was swiped through a keypad at one of the entrances to the cages, red light flickering to green.

The Weasley twins turned their backs to the entering technician, but not before noting the sentry at the entrance as well as the security camera imbedded in the ceiling above the door.

Fred nudged his twin as the two headed fro the exit. George nodded. No one went through to the cages unchecked.

* * *

"Most of all, I want you guys to know these casinos. They were built as labyrinths, to keep people in. I want you to know the quick routes out."

* * *

Fred and George got perhaps ten feet away from their recon station, before splitting ways.

"I'm telling you, the exit is _that_ way! Look, I can even see the light, I swear…"

"Right, with the sense of direction you have!"

"Better than yours! You're heading to the high stakes area!"

"The hell I am! Look—there are the slots, they are always near the entrance…"

* * *

"Second task: power. On the night of the fight, we're gonna throw the switch on sin city. Zabini, it's your show."

"Got it, boss…"

* * *

Blaise strolled casually down the street, amid the other tourists, before stepping toward the road and waving an orange traffic cone through the air. Quickly, he positioned three orange cones around a man-hole cover in the right traffic lane, his actions so relaxed that no one spared him a second glance.

With the man-hole safely protected from on-coming traffic, Blaise used a metal hook to pull up the cover and flip it off to the side. He wasted no time dropping in.

* * *

In a large, fluorescently-lit room, dozens of watchers monitor computer screens that oversee the gaming floor, keeping check of the comings and goings of the players.

Slightly apart from the central hubbub of main casino monitors, another bank of computer screens is manned by two watchers. These two oversee a different section of the building—the cages, the tunnels, the elevator, and of course, the vault the lead to.

* * *

"Third task: surveillance. Casino security has an eye and ear on everything, so we want an eye and ear on them. Neville…"

"Well, it's not the least accessible system I've seen, but it's close, "Neville mumbled as he pored over a familiar set of blueprints, "I don't suppose they have a closed-circuit feed I could tap into?"

Harry chewed his lip before glancing at Draco. The latter shook his head.

"No such luck."

"Well, this is definitely a black-bag job. Do they employ and in-house technician?"

Draco grinned, "Two. And one of them is lonely…"

* * *

In the bowels of the Olympic Gardens strip club, one of the technicians Dean had eavesdropped on sat drunkenly in a front row seat, with a busty blonde in his lap. The lap dance progressed swiftly as the oblivious employee dished out twenty bucks every few minutes, pawing at the torso of his "love".

The dancer ground her pelvis languidly, distracting the technician as she leaned forward and swiped the electronic key card from his belt. She tucked it into the back of her outfit and rose.

"I'll be right back, hon. Don't move a muscle."

The technician grinned crookedly, "Depends on which muscle…"

The blonde pouted professionally, hiding her disgusted grimace as she made her way to the back door of the club.

Outside, she looked around quickly before walking toward the best-dressed man in the backstreet. Draco smiled as the dancer approached and quickly traded a c-note for the key, "Thanks Charmaine. I'll have it back within the hour."

The dancer nodded, about to return to the club, when Draco added, "Say 'hi' to your mom for me."

'Charmaine' just shrugged, "Say it yourself. She's onstage in five minutes."

Draco looked almost tempted before popping a lollypop back into his mouth and jumping into his convertible. He started up the car whilst pushing aside a cloud of pink balloons in the passenger's seat in pure irritation.

* * *

A delivery boy weaved his way expertly through the Bellagio game floor, carrying with him a dozen or so pink balloons, all congratulating "Happy Anniversary!" He looked back just as he was passing the sentry-guarded door, in the process bumping forcefully into a tourist in front of him.

The balloons were ripped out of the delivery boy's hands by the impact, floating up to the camera imbedded in the ceiling.

"Hey, watch it, bud…"

* * *

A/N: And there you go—another chapter done. You know, guys, I am having second thoughts about the forced pairing of Snape and Ginny, even if for a little while…I am thinking of just changing the script slightly to rule out any "romance" and make it an employer-employee relationship instead. Although Snape might have other designs, it hasn't actually gotten anywhere…Why? Just because I really don't wanna write about that pairing. But we'll see.

As usual, **please REVIEW! Please with sexy lollypop-licking Draco's on top:)**

**-NS**


	8. Chapter 8

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* * *

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By Natasha Shaitanova

Chapter 8: Tasks

* * *

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Ocean's Eleven and I don't own Harry Potter. I own…my cat? Nah, she'd pull a Hiroshima on my ass if I thought I owned her. Evil furry animals…

**Quick A/M: **yeah, I'm back, back again….Shaity's back…bring a friend!

Lol okay, that's gonna be my intro after a long lack of updates…

* * *

"_Hey, watch it, bud!"_

In the control room, a guard lifted his radio lazily to his mouth and drawled, "433, we have a visual impairment on the east door camera."

As he spoke, the flurry of multicolored balloons filled up his screen, effectively blocking all else.

"Copy that, I see them," replied the sentry at the east door, walking quickly over to the balloon carrier and the tourist.

"Excuse me, sir, you are going to have to move those balloons."

The sentry went ignored, however, as the "tourist" was too busy picking a fight with the balloon boy.

"Watch who you're calling 'bud', pal!"

"Who're you calling 'pal', friend?"

"Who're you calling 'friend', jackass?"

"Don't call me a jackass!"

"I just did call you a jackass!"

"Gentlemen…" the sentry attempted, but for all his girth he could not separate the Weasley twins from their show.

* * *

As the sentry was busy dealing with the balloon boy, Neville the technician walked quickly over to the east door, swiping a security card through the lock. Red blinked over to green, allowing the man to slide inside.

Neville walked briskly through the corridor. Taking the heavy-duty glove off his right hand, he checked the route through the cages, before wiping off his sweating forehead.

* * *

The guard in the camera room sat in a rather lethargic manner, playing with his radio string and staring vaguely at the balloon covered monitor. He paid no attention to the technician walking nonchalantly through the cages on a nearby monitor.

* * *

Neville glanced at his hand one more time before swiping his card through a lock at an unmarked door.

Entering, he was faced with rows of glowing cabinets, full of wires and switchboards. He made his way carefully to the last row, still checking the map on his hand. Finally finding the required circuit, Neville crouched down and pulled apart some of the wires blocking his view.

* * *

Fred and George stood nose to nose now, blocking the sentry's way to the balloons as they 'argued'.

"You hear about this new medical discovery they made?" George noted snidely, "It's called a sense of direction. Apparently, we're all supposed to have one…"

Fred snorted with great exaggeration, "Yeah, yeah whatever, jackass."

"Look at this behavior, sir!" George looked with mock pleading at the sentry, "I'm just trying to deliver my balloons!"

"Hah, balloons! Balloon boy, he's a balloon boy! Hey balloon boy…"

"Gentlemen," the sentry looked almost helpless.

* * *

Meanwhile, Neville clipped a "spider" onto the main circuit—a small, dark device that transmitter incoming data onto a designated receiver. Before leaving he quickly checked the signal on a small, hand-held receiver and sure enough, the feed came through.

* * *

The final click into place by Neville caused a short blip on the monitors in the camera room, but went unnoticed.

Back in hotel room, the computer screens in front of Harry and Draco lit up with the camera shots from around the casinos, as well as the cages and the vault.

Harry snorted, "Why do they always paint the hallways this color?"

"They say taupe is very soothing," came Draco's blithe reply, before he focused his attention on the monitors.

* * *

Neville slid out of the switchboard room, carefully closing the door behind him. He wiped the sweat from his forehead for the hundredth time, before looking at his hand to check the map.

"Oh shit."

The pen ink had smeared from the sweat, leaving an indistinguishable mass of blue.

Neville glanced feverishly to his left, to his right, but couldn't for the life of him remember the route. He was flying blind.

Neville chanced a left and marched down the corridor, looking more casual than he felt.

One of the guards from the camera room, dressed in a bright red uniform, was walking dead ahead, coming towards Neville.

Keeping his brisk walk, Neville walked right past the guard, looking straight ahead the whole time.

"Hey."

"Fine, thanks," Neville mumbled vaguely, and continued moving.

He was nearing the door, almost in the clear, when the security guard called him back, "Hey…"

* * *

In the meantime, the sentry finally managed to maneuver around the Weasley twins and grab the balloons away from the camera himself. George quickly snatched them back.

"Hey! Get your own balloons, moron!"

* * *

Neville, already at the door, hurriedly swiped his card through the lock and punched in the six-digit code.

The red light did not switch.

"Hey!" The security guard was coming up fast behind him.

Neville frowned slightly before swiping the card again, the right way this time. The little light blinked to green but as he tried to push open the door, the red-dressed guard grabbed his shoulder.

Neville turned swiftly, faking a surprised look, new drops of sweat rolling down his forehead.

"You dropped this," the guard thrust the portable receiver into Neville's hand.

Neville covered his relief well, "Thank you."

"Take it easy, man."

But Neville was already out the door.

* * *

Harry and Draco exhaled simultaneously and shared an apprehensive glance.

"Well…"

"Yeah, that was close," Draco dragged a hand over his face.

"Yeah. Fourth task: construction."

* * *

The group hauled in building materials into the warehouse, paint, wood, metal bars, etc., with Cho dragging more than half her share—a balancing circus act in a construction zone, really.

Harry directed the scene, "Okay, people. We need to build an exact, working replica of the Bellagio vault."

"For practice," Draco chimed in as he sent a series of metal bars traveling down a conveyor belt.

"Something like that…"

Nodding to Ron, at the end of the conveyor belt, Harry continued, "Firth task: intelligence. We need those codes, Ron, from the only man who has all three."

Ron wrinkled his nose, "Snape."

"Learn to love his shadow," Harry smiled sardonically, "You'll be in disguise, don't worry."

"Wait, wait, wait!" Ron almost missed a traveling metal bar in his excitement, "All I get to do is trail the guy?!"

Harry shrugged, "For now. You've been out of real practice. Gotta learn to walk before you crawl."

Draco looked up and wriggled his hand at the pair, "Reverse that."

"Alright," Harry cut off the exchange, "Sixth task: transport."

* * *

Outside a retail car dealership, the Weasley twins jumped enthusiastically on the opposite bumpers of a van, supposedly testing its durability.

From inside the main building, the sales clerk, a Billy Tim redneck, fretted over the Weasleys' exploits, barely paying attention to what Dean was trying to say to him.

Finally, the salesman turned back to his customer, "Look, I'm sorry, but eighteen-five each is the best offer I can make you."

Dean, well into his act, just waved his hand with a flourish, "Oh, I understand perfectly, hon. Those are beautiful vans…Well! I thank you for your time, Mister…?"

"Denham. Billy Tim Denham."

"Yes, Denham, like a jean," both chuckled in a very fake manner as they shook hands, "You know, you have lovely hands. Do you moisturize?"

Dean kept an oblivious look on his face as the salesman was thrown by the off-beat question.

"Eh…I'm sorry?'

"I swear by it," Dean proclaimed, not letting go of the man's hand, "I try all kinds of lotions. I went through a fragrance-free period last year, but now I'm onto this new brand that is fortified with rosehip…My sister, you know, she uses aloe vera with the sunscreen built in…"

Billy Tim, meanwhile, was desperately trying to yank his hand back, without success, "Uh-huh…You said you were willing to pay in cash?"

"I did," Dean continued obliviously, "You know, they say cinnamon is great for you pores. I read that on the internet. But ideally you should be wearing gloves to bed and find that interferes with my social agenda, if you know what I mean," Dean leered at the clerk, before chattering on, "The problem is, I get a reaction to camphor, so I can't really get into the traditional remedies…"

"Yeah," Billy Tim grinned uneasily, "You know, if you would be willing to pay cash, then I could drop the price to maybe seventeen—"

Dean gave the hand a tight squeeze.

"Sixteen! Sixteen each."

"No, you would do that?" Dean exclaimed, in fake surprise.

"Oh yes, I would," the salesman backed off and tried to shake feeling back into his mutilated hand, "ah, just let me get the paperwork and I'll be right back…"

"You do that," this time, Dean's grin was genuine, "That would be lovely."

* * *

A/N: Alright, that's it. I don't feel like going on to the next part right now.

Next time, things start to get a bit more exciting. :)

**Please REVIEW! Do it for…damn I'm running out of things…oh! Stylish, Armani-suited Draco's, Harry's, Sirius's, and uh…whomever you like :)**

**-Shaity out.**


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